Fate
by fadedelegance
Summary: Connie has her first day as a federal prosecutor-and with it comes an unexpected encounter... T for language.


**Disclaimer** **: Dick Wolf and NBC own Law and Order. I don't.**

 **A/N** **: So I watched the SVU episode "Jersey Breakdown" from season 15, guest-starring one of my favorite celebs, the sweet and talented Ms. Alana De La Garza as her super awesome character Connie Rubirosa. (And live-tweeting during it when it aired on 1/22/14 made it SO much fun!) So in the episode, Connie has COME BACK TO NEW YORK CITY and now works in the U.S. Attorney's Office branch in the district encompassing Manhattan.**

 **So we know that Mike Cutter is no longer the SVU bureau chief and hasn't been in a while. So I got to thinking, "What if…?"** **(You know the Cutterosa shipper in me HAD to be wondering! LOL)**

 **What if Mike ended up going that far, as well?**

 **Fate**

Setting: Three months after Mike left the SVU bureau chief job

A wild thought crossed Connie's mind: that she wished heart rate was a voluntary function because no matter how many nice, deep breaths she took, she couldn't get her heart to quit pounding rapidly.

She also couldn't get rid of the fluttery feeling coursing throughout her entire body.

 _Connie, just calm down._ _It'll be okay. Everything will be all right,_ she thought to herself for what felt like the five hundredth time that day.

She'd been thinking that over and over again in contradiction to an inner voice that kept saying, _You've just made it big—now don't blow it._

This wasn't her first time going to the office of New York's Southern District of the U.S. Attorney's Office in Manhattan. It was actually her third. The first time was for her interview. The second time was after she graciously and happily accepted a position as an assistant U.S. attorney. She'd brought everything that she would need—including several homey touches—for her new office and had gotten it all set up to her liking. She'd also taken the time to walk around and get a feel for the building.

Now, she was arriving for her first day on the job—her first official day as an AUSA, as an employee of the Department of Justice.

She still just couldn't believe it. She was a federal prosecutor. For a moment, another emotion overcame her: pride. This was going to be a very fulfilling job. She just knew it.

Her mind was still blown. She'd worked so hard and was reaping the rewards. Still, she never would've thought she'd get this far.

She'd gone further than she'd ever dreamed she would in her career, she had a career she loved—prosecuting—and she was living and working in her favorite place in the world: New York City.

But something was still missing.

Everything she'd ever wanted was hers, except for one thing: someone to share her life with. Someone special to dispel her loneliness.

Connie couldn't help but hope that she would earn that, too…

She was so deep in thought that when the elevator stopped, she gave a startled flinch and snapped out of it.

The people riding the elevator with her must've thought she was nuts—jumpy and paranoid.

But whatever. She had a job to do.

She walked down the hall a little way's and then turned a corner to her right, making her way to her office, number 618.

After dropping off her purse and briefcase, Connie left again to go see the Deputy AUSA, Jaclyn Sandoval, to get her first case assignment. The head of the whole office, U.S. Attorney Antonio Pearson, was on a business trip in D.C. (A rumor was going around that he'd be dining at the White House.)

As Connie was making her way back to her office, a smile on her face and the file for her very first federal case under her arm, she noticed that the person in one of the offices next door to hers was arriving.

It was a woman a couple inches shorter than her with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and a gray pants suit on.

"Oh—hi there!" the woman said when she noticed Connie.

"Hi!" Connie replied.

"You must be new here. That office has been empty for a while," said the woman.

"Yeah, I am," said Connie.

"Here—let me unlock my office and set my stuff down and then I'll introduce myself."

"Okay!" Connie said, already grateful to the woman for her kindness.

A moment later, the woman re-emerged from her office.

"All right," she said, coming over to Connie. "Hi! I'm Amy Faulkner."

She extended her hand.

"Connie Rubirosa," Connie said, shaking hands with the woman. "Nice to meet you!"

"You, too!" said Amy. "So is this your first day?"

"Yes! In fact, I just went and saw Jaclyn and got my first case," Connie responded happily.

"That's great!" said Amy. "Well, I'm gonna go get a cup of coffee."

"The elixir of life," Connie joked.

"Yeah, seriously," Amy agreed. "So I'll see you around. If there's anything at all I can help you with, just ask."

"I will. Thank you so much, Amy," Connie said sincerely.

"Of course. It's no problem," Amy replied kindly.

With that, she rounded the corner to the break room.

Connie then entered her own office to get started on her first case.

In the break room, there was a line to get a share of the full pot of coffee that had been brewed.

"Hey!" Amy greeted one of her best friends in the office as she got in line behind him.

"Welcome to the party," Mike Cutter quipped.

"Yeah—no kidding! Today's must really be one of those mornings," said Amy.

She had a stainless steel coffee tumbler in her hand, and Mike was holding a navy mug with the Yankees' 'NY' logo on it in white.

"Well, there is _one_ good thing about this," Mike said.

"What?" asked Amy.

"Now that you're here, I'm not at the end of the line anymore," Mike replied, smirking.

"Asshole," Amy bantered.

Mike snorted, and she chuckled.

"So," Mike then said, changing the subject, "I see congratulations are in order."

He nodded at the ring on Amy's left ring finger.

"Yeah!" Amy replied, grinning. "Thanks!"

"Why didn't you and Jennifer get married right after New York legalized same-sex marriage?"

"We hadn't met yet," Amy explained. "But in a way, you're right—we couldn't wait, so last Friday, we hit the courthouse," she added.

She smiled again.

"That's wonderful," Mike said, though he felt a stab of pain as he was needlessly reminded that he was still very lonely and very single.

"So did you know we've got a new prosecutor here?" said Amy. "I just met her. Her office is right next to mine—number six eighteen. She's a tall Hispanic woman—last name's Ramos, something like that. She seems really sweet…God, I'm _terrible_ with names. She's gonna have to tell me again…"

'Tall Hispanic woman'…'really sweet'…Mike knew someone who fit that description perfectly—and damn, did it hurt to think of her. It always hurt to think of Connie Rubirosa. Even though they exchanged text messages and emails, it hurt to read them. Even though they sometimes called one another and got to hear each other's voices—even though they sometimes video chatted on Skype, not only getting to hear one another's voices but to see each other's faces—it still hurt.

Though they'd kept in touch, it still hurt because nothing was the same as having her there. None of that could ever compare to her presence.

Damn it, he missed her…

He snapped out of it when Amy said, "You should go introduce yourself, Mike—make her feel welcome."

"Oh—yeah—that's a great idea. I'll do that," Mike said.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate it," said Amy. "She seemed very grateful that I did it."

"Well, you're a good person. Any decent human being would be grateful to you for making them feel welcome," said Mike.

"Thanks, bud," said Amy.

"No problem," said Mike.

"Yay!" Amy then said when it was Mike's turn to get a cup of coffee.

Mike gave a small smile and filled his mug with Folger's medium roast.

"So are we still on for lunch today?" Amy asked him as she got some coffee for herself.

"Yeah, definitely," Mike replied. "Just text me. I should be off the phone with the FBI by lunch time—hopefully they've got more for me. I'll see you around."

"See you, bud. I'll shoot you a text."

A couple hours later—

"…Yeah. Yeah, that should definitely be enough…Yeah—they can't claim jurisdiction in this, we've got him dead-to-rights. A judge should have no issues remanding him to our custody…Yes. I'll just draw up the writ of habeas corpus this afternoon and have it to Judge Walters by the end of the day. That's my plan…All right. Thank you, Agent. Call me if anything else comes up…All right, thanks…Goodbye."

Mike ended his phone call and then sighed heavily, running a hand through his sandy hair.

He checked his phone again—no text from Amy yet.

Deciding he could afford to take a brief break to go introduce himself to the new prosecutor, he arose from his desk, left his office, closing the door behind him, and got on the elevator to go down two floors.

Connie had been reading through the file for her first case, which was pretty thick. But that didn't bother her at all—on the contrary. She loved a challenge. And besides, wasn't that the reason she took this job in the first place?

 _Welcome to the big leagues, Connie,_ she thought with a small smile.

She was just about to start reading the page she'd just turned to when there came a knock at her door.

Very curious, Connie arose from her desk to answer it.

After knocking on the door, Mike placed his hands in his pockets, patiently waiting for the office's new occupant to answer.

Connie opened the door, and immediately, her heart began to race.

Mike couldn't believe it. All the times wishful thinking had led him to picture reuniting with her…He'd never imagined it could happen like this.

Neither of them spoke right away.

For a moment, all they could do was look at one another—take each other in.

Connie noted how his sandy hair had fallen forward onto his forehead. He must've run his hand through it. He sometimes did that when he was deep in thought about a case. He'd also rolled up his sleeves. He must've had something important to do that day, though—a meeting, maybe—otherwise, he would've already loosened his tie. He typically waited until later in the work day when he didn't have anywhere to be to take his tie completely off. It had to be a meeting. He didn't mind rolling his sleeves back down and putting his suit jacket on if he had to be somewhere important. He wasn't due in court. If he was, he wouldn't have messed with his sleeves at all.

She wasn't the least bit surprised that he was still as handsome as ever.

Connie was still the most beautiful woman Mike had ever seen.

"Connie…" he spoke her name softly, pleasantly surprised.

"Hey," she said tenderly. "Please come in," she added, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

Mike did so, and she closed the door behind him.

"Connie—why didn't you tell me you were here?" he asked.

"I was going to," Connie replied warmly. "But you beat me to the punch. This is my first day here, and I just got the file for my first case. After I was done reading it, I was going to ask around about where your office is and come surprise you."

"You were?" Mike asked.

Connie could tell he was moved.

"Yes," she said. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't," Mike replied. "I'm really good friends with Amy Faulkner. We were getting coffee in the break room a couple hours ago, and she told me there was a new prosecutor in the office next to hers—the one that's been unoccupied for a while. She suggested I introduce myself, and I thought that was a really good idea. Turns out it was a wonderful idea…"

"Wow—talk about serendipity," said Connie.

"Maybe it's not serendipity," Mike said, taking a step towards her. "Maybe it's fate."

"Maybe it is," Connie agreed.

"Connie, I've missed you _so_ much," Mike said tenderly.

"Likewise," said Connie.

"What brings you back to New York City?"

"A couple of things," Connie replied. "First of all, Mike, seeing you be so successful? Seeing you get to the next level? It inspired me."

"Really?" Mike asked, flattered.

"Yeah," Connie said, finding herself smiling.

Mike had always thought she had the most beautiful smile. And the most contagious. He found himself smiling, as well.

Connie loved _his_ smile—those dimples of his got her every time.

"You made me take a look at my career and see that I wanted to do the same—take it to the next level. I thought, 'Why not? I'm really good at my job—despite what Jonah Dekker thinks'—"

"Forget him," Mike interjected warmly.

His words moved Connie.

"You have always had my back. I hope you feel the same about me," she told him.

"Of course I do," Mike said without hesitation. "The best example is back when Emily Ryan stabbed me in the back and tried to ruin my career."

"That hypocritical bitch," said Connie.

"I never liked Dekker. That prick never gave you an ounce of respect. It pissed me off," Mike said sharply. "And he also just thought he'd tell you I said something I would never say about you—you're 'a loose cannon'? What the hell? Why claim that I said that? What was the point?"

"Maybe he felt threatened," Connie suggested, looking him in the eyes.

"Maybe he did," Mike said, softening.

Again, for a moment, they just looked at each other.

"So, yeah," Connie then said, "you inspired me to make a big move in _my_ career…You remember that Skype chat we had where you told me you were aiming for the U.S. Attorney's Office?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Do you remember what I told you?" Connie asked.

"I remember exactly what you told me," Mike replied. "You said, 'No offense, Mike, but I never thought being a bureau chief was for you. Being cooped up in an office all day? That's not you. You're a go-getter. I knew you'd get sick of delegating. I knew it wouldn't be long before you wanted to get back in the ring so to speak'…And you were absolutely right," he said warmly. "As we both know, I didn't last very long at all."

Neither of them could help but chuckle at that remark.

Then Connie said, "And then there was the Skype chat where you told me you were hired here. I was so happy for you…And like I said, I just really got to thinking about where I was at in my career. I was _never_ happy in the L.A.D.A.'s Office because like you said, Dekker never gave me an _ounce_ of respect. I was beyond sick of being underestimated, disrespected, and taken for granted. I found myself contemplating leaving—getting a much better job. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to be a federal prosecutor—the more I thought that it couldn't hurt to go for it. So I did. But before I could make that move, something else had to happen."

"What's that?" asked Mike.

"I had to get out of denial," Connie replied. "I had to face the fact that staying in California wasn't going to cut it for me. My mom finally got me to admit that I was never happy in L.A.—that I was miserable, basically. She knows it had nothing to do with her or the rest of the family. And she's absolutely right. They're not the reason I was miserable—they're not the reason I left California in the first place when I went off to college. I love them with all my heart. We're close…Mike, my mom said something to me that she never has before."

"What's that?" asked Mike.

"She said, 'Ever since you were a child, Consuela, you've had the biggest dreams. You have always been so determined and passionate. It was always so beautiful to watch. You knew even before your oldest brother what you wanted to do in life. Watching you work so hard and excel, seeing your determination and your passion, has just fascinated your father and I—and made us _so_ proud of you…I have known for a long time that of my children, you would be the one I would have to let go. California couldn't hold you—it still can't. Consuela—go back to the wonderful life you have built for yourself. Go back home to New York City. Go back and be happy. As your mother, that is what I want for you—to live out your dreams and be happy'…She was right. New York City is my home. It _is_ where I'm happy…"

She sighed and blinked back tears.

"That was such a wonderful thing for her to say to you…You should be where you're happy…" Mike said softly.

"Yeah, it was…And you're right," Connie agreed. "People should be where they're happy."

"They should stay where they're happy," Mike said, looking her straight in the eyes.

Connie knew exactly what he meant.

"Yeah," she said softly, wiping her eyes.

Mike just wanted to hold her close to him.

"I'm so happy to be back home," Connie said, wiping her eyes again. "Sorry, she added. "I'm getting emotional."

"Don't be sorry at all, please," Mike said tenderly.

Those words moved Connie. She gave him an appreciative smile.

"How long have you been home?" Mike asked.

"Almost two weeks now," Connie replied. "I've missed you so much, Mike. I really have…" she then added softly. "I thought about you a lot…"

"I thought about you a lot, too," Mike said.

"I—I went on three or four dates. There were at _most_ four…I can't even recall the exact number—shows how much I enjoyed myself," Connie said dryly. "After the last sham date, I finally gave up…"

Mike took another step towards her.

"Gave up on what?" he asked.

"Trying to get over you," Connie confessed, looking Mike straight in the eyes. "I tried to move on, like I just told you. I tried telling myself that you and I could never be together because we were all the way across the country from each other…But nothing changed. I…I ended up missing you and wanting to be with you even more."

Mike reached out to her, and she placed her hands in his. His grasp was gentle.

"I ended up giving in and letting my best friend Steve set me up with one of his coworkers. That was the _worst_ date I've ever been on. She was an _idiot._ The more she talked, the more I wanted to leave. That was the only date I went on…I tried to get over you, too. And I told myself the same thing: it was never going to happen—not with the entire continental United States between us. I told myself that I had to face reality: you were starting over in L.A., and I was probably never going to see you in person again, so I should start over, too…Connie, it was the same for me—the exact same. The more I tried to move on, the more I missed you, and—and my feelings got stronger…Actually, to be entirely honest, Connie—I've always had feelings for you."

"I've always had feelings for you, too," Connie said.

"Really?" Mike asked, pleasantly surprised.

"Really," Connie replied tenderly. "And they've gotten stronger, too."

Mike gently touched her face.

Connie stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. Mike embraced her in return, still not able to believe this was happening.

Everything was turning out the way it was supposed to.

He didn't have to let this amazing woman go.

Connie was so happy that she'd been wrong: she didn't have to give up hope of ever being with Michael Cutter after all.

It truly was a wonderful feeling.

"So this Friday," Mike said, breaking the silence that was anything but awkward, "do you have any plans, Connie?"

"No, I don't," Connie replied.

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me—say at six? Or we could go earlier or later. It doesn't matter, as long as I finally get to go on a date with you," Mike said sweetly.

"I usually eat dinner around six, so six is perfect," Connie said.

Mike smiled himself at hearing the smile in her voice.

"We'll go wherever you want," he said.

"I'll have to make up my mind. I'll call you once I do," said Connie.

"Okay," Mike agreed.

They were silent for a moment.

Then—

"Connie?"

"Mmhm?"

"Welcome home," Mike said warmly.

Connie lifted her head up off his shoulder so she could look straight into his beautiful blue eyes.

"It's wonderful to _be_ home," she told him. "And I'm so happy you asked me out."

"Of course I did. Connie, we just click," Mike said softly.

"You're right. We do," Connie agreed.

"Plus it's like you said," Mike added. "I'm a go-getter."

At that, Connie gave him a warm smile, which he returned before leaning in and tenderly kissing her, resting his hand gently on the side of her neck.

Connie kissed him back just as tenderly.


End file.
